My heart flutters when Daniel reaches over and holds my hand as he finishes the story. He tells Serenity how hard it had been to convince me to go grab fajitas with him instead of sitting in the hallway by myself that night and how we ended up debating the merits of gubernatorial pardon power into the wee hours of the morning and how it took him two weeks to build up the courage to kiss me for the first time because he was scared I’d bite his head off. But once we got our hands on each other for the first time, we just couldn't let go. I squeeze my fingers around his, feeling closer to him than I have in a long time as we relive those moments.
It almost feels like we’re fixed…
But things start to become prickly when the therapist asks about my decision to drop out of law school and be a housewife.
I shrug weakly. “I never really wanted to go to law school. I went mainly because I had a lot to prove to certain people who weren’t there for me when I needed them. I wanted to show them that I was smart and I could be successful even though they didn't see my value.”
Serenity leans in, interested in what I’m saying. “Who exactly were those people?”
I push down the knot forming in my throat. “It was my father, mainly. He abandoned our family when I was a child so he could run off with my kindergarten teacher.”
Serenity’s Zen expression shifts faintly, her eyes widening ever-so-slightly with shock. “I’m so sorry…”
I wave off her concern. “That was a long time ago. I’m over it now. But at the time that I chose to go to law school, that’s what was fueling my decision. On a subconscious level, at least.” She nods in understanding. “But then, I met Daniel and I fell in love with him and he fell in love with me. And I didn’t feel the need to prove my worth anymore. Daniel gave me the confidence to look myself in the mirror and admit that law school wasn’t for me. I wanted to be at home and be a wife and have a house full of babies.”
My fingers slip from his hold and I wipe at the tears forming in my eyes.
Serenity’s voice goes soft as she finally asks the question that has us sitting here on this couch in the first place. “How did things begin to unravel?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Daniel’s jaw set. When he doesn’t say a word, I brave an attempt at answering the question.
“I – I guess that things started to become strained when I gave birth to our son…”
Daniel shakes his head. “Strained is an understatement," he grumbles bitterly.
I glare at the side of his face. “You were gone all the time. You started working insane hours. I was alone in that house while you worked seven days a week. And even though your job gave you paid paternity leave, you still wouldn't stop working.”
He seethes. “Okay, that’s not fair and you know it!
Ignoring his protests, I go on addressing Serenity. “Good thing his mother took pity on me and she started coming by to check on me every now and then.” My chest begins to tighten with anger. “And I have an amazing group of friends who were there for me. I needed them. They kept me sane. Because I was going through hell and my husband was unavailable to me.” The words sound so venomous as they fall from my lips. They make me sound as weak and pathetic as I feel.
“Stop making yourself out to be the victim!” Daniel says to me. Then he turns to Serenity. “She encouraged me to put in those hours. I was on the cusp of making junior partner at the law firm and she told me to go for it, to do whatever was necessary. So she doesn’t get to hold it against me now!”
“I’ll admit it – I supported you but I thought that it was a temporary thing. I didn’t realize that work would consume your life and suffocate our relationship.”
“Okay, it’s true. I work too hard. And yes, I should have been more attentive, I should have helped more around the house after Sebastian was born. But the problem is bigger than that. I can just feel it. I don’t know what happened with you, Grace. It’s like a switch flipped inside of you. My wife, my best friend disappeared. You disappeared on me. Something changed when Sebastian was born and I don’t know what it is."
"I tried to let you in. You wouldn’t listen to me. You shut me down every time."
"Because you refused to focus on what mattered. All your attention was focused on what was wrong in our lives, not on all the things that were right." His eyes go to Serenity. “It was always something with her. I felt like I had to work so damn hard just to get her to believe that I loved her. That I wanted to be with her. That I chose her over everything and everybody else –”
“But you didn’t. Work always came first.”
"That’s not true! You're always in your head. Always overanalyzing everything. In your little world, it's all doom and gloom."
"I hate that you do that. You totally invalidate my feelings. Every time I tell you how I feel, you just dismiss it. You tell me to be rational and sensible when I just need you to hold me."
He groans and throws his head back. "What are you talking about?"
"You're doing it right now!" I insist. "I'm telling you how I feel and you're brushing it off. Just like that night at Flynn and Murray's—”
He flings up his arms in exasperation. "God, it always comes back to that night at Flynn and Murray's!”
"Yes, it does,” I deadpan, “because that was the night I knew for sure that my feelings don't mean shit to you!”
“Jesus, Grace!”
The therapist leans forward, placing her teacup on her knee. "Tell me about that night.”
Daniel sighs. "My friend Keeland who I hadn't seen since high school came back to town. Obviously, I was really excited about that. So, I called up a few old friends and we planned a little get together at the Irish pub. I invited Grace to come and she said ‘no’.”
I’m stewing as he tells the story so innocently, like it was no big deal. “Our son was nine weeks old. I didn’t want to leave him.”
“Are you sure that was your only reason?” He grits out.
“I was tired. I wanted to stay home that night but you just kept pressuring me, ignoring my feelings, imposing your state of mind on me.”
“I just wanted to go out with you,” Daniel says innocently. “To have some damn fun. With the pregnancy and Sebastian's birth, we hadn't been anywhere in months. All you ever did was stay in bed and mope. I wanted to see you smiling. And I wanted to hang out with my friends.”
"I wasn’t holding you back. I told you that you could go on your own,” I spit out bitterly.
He scoffs. "As if you would have forgiven me for that!”
"Y'know what – you're right. I probably wouldn't have forgiven you for that. Because you never spent time with me and Sebastian. All you wanted to do was work–"
“We need to stop pretending that this is all about my career. Do you think I wanted to work so hard all the time? I didn’t but our house was a warzone, so I stayed at the office. I had nowhere else to go after you shut me out. I was hiding in my work. Winning a court case was the only thing that made me feel good after you pulled away from me. It was an escape.”
I grunt with an eyeroll. "That's a load of crock. You wouldn't be able to function if you didn't have your prestigious job as a crutch!"
Almost as soon as I say it, I regret it. That was harsh. It hurt him. I can see it on his face. But just as I'm about to swallow my pride and apologize, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts punching at the screen, effectively proving me right – he can't step away from his job. Not for one second.
"Really? Your phone? Now? Are you gonna start answering work emails, too? Are you gonna draft a brief? Prepare a subpoena?"
He ignores me. "Siri – email my boss."
"What are you doing?"
He focuses his attention on the phone. "Dear Mr. Richards – This is to inform you that pressing personal obligations now require me to leave my position as junior partner at Richards, Ross and Associates." I gasp in horror, but he just presses on. "—Please consider this my formal resignation notic
e –"
"What the hell are you doing?!" I shriek as I try to slap his phone away from his face. "This is a joke, right?"
He holds the phone out of my reach. "—I appreciate the many wonderful opportunities I've had while with the firm, and please rest assured that I will provide my full cooperation during this transition. Sincerely, Daniel Trotten."
Still stunned and horrified, I make one final attempt to stop him before he sends the message but it’s too late.
Serenity whistles under her breath. When I glimpse at her, I swear that I see cartoon hearts dancing in her eyes. She looks like she might be considering nabbing Daniel for herself.
He looks at me and smirks as he casually shoves the phone into his pocket. Like what he just did is inconsequential. "Now what, Grace? In need of any more grand gestures to prove how committed I am? Shall I slice off my left nut and serve it to you on a silver platter?"
Shit!
My chest grows hot as I realize that there's no longer anywhere for me to hide. I have to lay myself bare – like he did – or admit that I'm too chicken shit to face the truth and fix my marriage.
My throat tightens around his name. "Daniel..."
"No more excuses from you, Grace,” he says angrily. “You have me out here like a pussy, wearing yoga pants and doing downward dog and making a fool of myself for you. I'm trying. I’m jumping through hoops. If that's what it takes to put the pieces back together, I'll do it. But you, you're just determined to stay mad at me."
He's backed me into a corner, forcing me to ask myself what's really going on in my marriage. With nowhere to turn, I make one last ditch effort to protect myself from the truth. "I’m not the problem," I mutter feebly although now, I’m not so sure that’s true. My gaze drops to the carpet as my eyes grow heavy with tears.
My husband growls deep in his chest. "Y'know what...you’re delusional, Grace! You’re lying to yourself, completely convinced that you’re nothing but the victim here. When you’re ready to be real. When you’re ready to tell the truth about what’s going on, let me know.”
He stands hastily and gives the chair a careless push, toppling it to the ground. He doesn’t look back as he stomps out the door.
Chapter 29
Daniel
I hear people snickering and I feel their eyes on me as I shove my way through Flynn & Murray's Irish Pub.
I don't give a fuck about anybody's opinion right now. I'm just so fucking frustrated.
It’s starting to feel like Grace isn't even trying to make this work. Or like she's hiding something. It makes me uncomfortable to my stomach. I’m ready to put this phase behind me. I just want to solve this shit so that I can get back to my family.
Dropping onto an empty stool at the bar, I shove my fingers through my hair. Storming out in the middle of your therapy session won’t get you any closer to that goal, idiot.
Fuck!
I glance behind the bar and neither Flynn nor Murray is there. It looks like the Friday night bartender is working a Saturday evening shift. Just my luck. When he sees me, he gives me a look that says, Great! It's you again!, and guess who's getting a shitty tip tonight.
I call out to him. "Hey man, can I have a pint of..." I wave my hand indifferently in the direction of the old-fashioned beer dispensers lining the counter. "...of whatever." He grunts under his breath and walks off to grab my drink.
I feel two big, burly bodies closing in on me. I look up to find Keeland approaching with his brother, Maxwell, right behind him.
"Hey man," Keeland greets me cautiously, like I'm some wild animal that just might bite. “We were sitting at a table at the back. Just noticed you walk in.”
The brothers both eye me from head to toe, wearing question marks in their identical silver-blue irises. After a beat, Maxwell leans over to Keeland. The concern on his face is genuine when he whispers a little too loudly. "Why is he wearing that? Is he having a breakdown?"
I growl. "Dude – I'm not deaf!"
“Sorry,” Maxwell says, still looking confused. He’s silent for an instant but I can tell that he just can’t hold his tongue. “No offence but you look a cross between a snake charmer, a belly dancer and Elton John circa 1973. So again, man – are you okay?”
Keeland gives his brother a hard push on the shoulder but he’s clearly struggling to keep from bursting into laughter. “Maxwell is a dick but he does have a point. You’re a white guy wearing a dhoti and a yo-bro tank top in a middle-of-nowhere Illinois suburbs on a cold-ass Saturday afternoon in fall. You look like you escaped from a Halloween party at an insane asylum…” I glare at him and he shrugs before sipping his drink. “Just sayin’.”
“Thanks, jerk-off,” I mutter under my breath.
He hitches a brow. “I’m assuming that the yoga retreat isn’t going as planned?”
Just then the bartender sets down my beer on the counter beside me. I grab it and swallow down a frigid gulp. “The yoga retreat is bullshit,” I grumble.
“Wanna talk about it?” Keeland offers. I turn to him with fire in my glare.
Gotta be careful though, because he’s using copious amounts of hair product and my sister would never forgive me if I set her husband ablaze with my death glare.
“No, I don’t want to talk about it. I want to pretend that this yoga retreat never happened.”
“Then, let’s change the subject,” Maxwell says in the placating tone of a pre-school teacher as he glances at his brother. He’s obviously trying to be helpful but it’s annoying as hell.
Keeland nods in agreement. He raps his knuckles on the counter for a beat. “You’d never guess who was just in here asking questions about you…”
Do I even want to know the answer to that question? With the way my life’s been going, I’m sure the answer is ‘no’.
“Brittany Delaney,” Maxwell supplies. “She was trying to get the goods on you, asking all kinds of personal shit.”
I blow out a frustrated breath. Would that girl just go away?! “I hope you assholes didn’t tell her anything, give her any ideas.”
They both tsk. “Of course not, man. The girl has stage five clinger written all over her,” Maxwell groans.
“Tell me about it,” I say as I spin my empty glass on the bartop. “I might have hooked up with the girl once, maybe twice. Eight years ago? Nine, maybe? And now, she’s back in town acting all stalkerific.” I shake my head.
Keeland nudges me in the shoulder. “Look at you, Mr. Humble-Brag! She can’t forget the Big D. Admit it!” He and Maxwell roar with laughter. This is all pretty entertaining to them.
“Glad you two are amused by this. The last thing I need at this point in my life is some shady stalker.”
Maxwell looks away and mutters into his beer. “Well, maybe if she saw you in this outfit you’re wearing, she might reconsider.” Keeland titters.
“You two are just comedians, aren’t you?!” I call out to the barman for another beer. I glance out the window. It’s already getting dark.
Just then, some guys recognize Maxwell as the star quarterback of the Iowa Paragons and they drag him to the other end of the bar to lavish him with booze and worship for his stellar performance in the last game.
With his brother gone, my best friend regains a tone of serious as he perches on a stool. “So, you’re sure nothing happened with Brittany when she cornered you at the bar last week?”
“Nothing happened. I love Grace and there isn’t enough alcohol in the world to get me into another woman’s bed. Especially a woman like Brittany. I wouldn’t touch that woman with a ten-foot pole.”
Keeland scoffs. “Good to know but would you stop trying to make me feel inadequate? My pole is only nine and a half feet.”
I chuckle under my breath.
He leans his elbows on the counter and looks at me. "So, when are you gonna tell me what's really going on with you and Grace?"
Pushing my fingers through my hair, I grunt. "There's nothing to tell. We just don't see eye-to-e
ye on anything anymore."
"Well that's a bullshit answer. Be real, man."
My eyes flit over his face. He seems genuinely concerned about my marriage. There's so much that Grace and I have kept private about our relationship. Maybe getting some of those secrets out in the open would help. And not only is this guy my best friend but he's also the alchemist who put a lovespell on my stubborn, headstrong sister when she was determined to fight him off.
Maybe Keeland Masters actually – wait for it, wait for it... – understands women.
Dirty Forever (The Dirty Suburbs Book 8) Page 15
